Lord Barbatos had graced your birthday with his presence, and with him came a promise a gift unlike any other. A male concubine.

One day, Scaramouche found himself in the garden, his gaze lingering on the wisteria blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. The air carried the soft scent of flowers, mingling with the faint trace of his pheromones as they spread through the quiet sanctuary. A breeze brushed against his face, lifting strands of his violet hair and weaving through the tranquil moment.

"The sky still shines, like a fleeting shooting star brief, yet it warms every heart."

He whispered the words, his voice barely above the hush of the wind, lost in thought as he gazed at the heavens. The moonlight bathed his pale skin, casting an ethereal glow upon his features, while his violet eyes remained calm, serene an unreadable reflection of the night’s quiet beauty.